A Dose of Sun and Surf
by Gumnut
Summary: Sunburn became the least of his worries [complete]
1. Chapter 1

A Dose of Sun and Surf   
Part 1 of an answer to the 'sunlight' word challenge  
By Gumnut  
10-12 Jul 2004 

A thousand tinkling orbs of silver, sprayed out against the purple of the sky. Thunder in his ears, a whistling of wind passing over the heat of his skin. Glare as his face was forced heavenward, sunlight etching into his retinas, blinding him.

Trembling weightlessness.

A sudden indrawn breath of disbelieving astonishment.

And he fell.

xxxxxx

Snapshot.

A flicker, a slither of time, a moment stolen from continuity and frozen forever.

Electricity powers everything. Human and AI minds alike, yet the circuits of the artificial intelligence have a permanency the human mind neglects. Memory set in stone.

He caught it and would forever remember it.

xxxxxx

A lone car on the highway.

"It was all your fault, you know."

"My fault? I do seem to recall warning you."

"When?"

"Before we stopped."

"Before you put the top down."

"What?"

"Before you opened the book."

"C'mon-"

"Before you fell asleep."

"I did not fall asleep!"

"So all that snoring was purely generated for my benefit, then?"

"What snoring?"

Immediately Kitt's voice was replaced by a recording of some animal noises.

"What!"

"Don't blame me, I'm just the playback tool."

Michael glared at the dashboard. "When did you become such a smart alec?"

"Approximately two point six seconds after I realised it was you I would have to work with."

"Oh, ha-ha. That still doesn't explain why you didn't wake me up."

"Michael, there have been times where a twenty gun salute has not been able to wake you up."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I've tried it!"

"Oh." Pause. "Well, you still could've put the top back up."

"Fine. Which limb did you prefer to be removed first?"

"What?"

"Michael, can we say 'sprawl'? You had various body parts sticking out at various angles. Closing the top would have removed at least one of your arms, if not a couple of legs."

Michael didn't answer that one. The mental picture was enough.

"Okay, Kitt. But regardless, it was still your idea."

"My idea? I do not recall mentioning anything involving ritual solar bombardment."

"'A dose of sun and surf', I think was your phrasing."

"Yes, a nice little trip to the beach, Michael, an activity that has proven relaxing for you in the past. I was simply thinking of your welfare. It is not my fault you don't think of it yourself."

There was no answer to that one.

Silence.

So, okay, maybe it had been his fault, but you'd think with all this wizbang gadgetry, he would have been able to avoid a simple case of sunburn.

Damn, he felt awful. Kitt had the air conditioning blasting , attempting to cool him down, but it was having limited success.

"Kitt, how far do we have left to go?"

There was a pause, and Michael wondered briefly if he had managed to annoy the AI that little bit too much.

"Another forty-five minutes." The tone was curt and precise. Damn.

"Listen, Kitt, I'm sorry."

Silence.

"Kitt, it was my fault, I admit it, okay?"

More silence.

"For crying out loud, Kitt, I'm the one paying for it."

There was a beep, and Michael's vital signs popped up on the monitor. "Yes, Michael, I would say you are." The data was suddenly replaced by a Kitt's eye view of Michael's face.

Oh. My. God.

His hands left the steering wheel and Kitt switched to Auto Cruise as Michael grabbed the rearview mirror and examined himself.

"My god, Kitt, I can't go around looking like this."

"I don't think you have a choice, Michael."

"But I look...I look ridiculous!"

"A simple matter of opinion."

He glanced at the dashboard again. "What?"

"Any resemblance to a raccoon is purely coincidental."

"Kitt!"

"Yes, Michael?"

Strangulation, yes, strangulation. If only he had a neck.

"Michael, are you quite alright? Your blood pressure just jumped alarmingly."

"I'm just fine, Kitt, just fine." Gritted teeth. "But I am not going to the Foundation Charity Dinner looking like this."

"I'm afraid, Michael, that due to the fact that you were wearing your sunglasses when you fell asleep this afternoon, you do not have a choice."

"Yes, I do. I'm simply not going."

"Bonnie will be disappointed."

"Bonnie will survive."

"She won't like it."

"Fine. Then you go with her."

"I had intended to in any case. However, you were also requested to attend."

"I am not going to the Dinner looking like a red and white raccoon."

"Unfortunately, Michael, this time you will have to."

"Wh-?" And then it struck him. Devon's presentation. Damn!

Damn.

Damn, he felt hot.

"Kitt, could you up the air conditioning."

"I already have, Michael. Any colder and my upholstery will start to freeze."

"Exaggeration doesn't become you, Kitt."

"Who said I was exaggerating?"

xxxxxx

Frozen time. Split seconds. Decision calculated and made.

Power rerouted.

Systems engaged.

Body deployed.

The black car took on a life of its own, asphalt, turf, and fencing, no obstacle. It shot forward like a projectile, guests scattering, people screaming.

The edge came up fast and the earth disappeared beneath him.

And Kitt flew.

xxxxxx

God, he hated these things.

He could feel Bonnie staring at him again as he hid behind his sunglasses, and his tie was still trying to strangle him, in between attempts to rub his sunburnt skin raw.

"Michael, are you sure you're up to this?"

"He is."

Michael glared at the dash for the fiftieth time since they'd left the mansion. "I can speak for myself, you know."

"Yes, but each time you do, it involves some reason not to attend this gathering, and since you can not avoid Devon's presentation, your statements are redundant."

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the garage this morning, Kitt?"

"Are you attempting to imply something, Michael?"

"Not attempting, Kitt. Determinedly succeeding."

"It is all your fault."

"My fault? What have I done now? I thought we'd already discussed the sunburn situation." He glanced at Bonnie, trying his best to ignore the grin on her face.

"Not the sunburn. While you were inside dressing yourself in that penguin suit you so revile, I did a systems check. I have sand in places most undignified, and I noticed that you failed to notice the little deposit left by the local wildlife. You look all dressed up, while I'm driving around with some animal's faeces as a hood ornament."

Okay, Kitt was totally miffed. He peered through the windshield. Sure enough, just over the curve of the shaped shell, a large blob of white seagull leftovers was dried to the ebony paintwork.

"Okay, okay, Kitt. Plot yourself to the nearest car wash."

"We will be late."

"No great loss, trust me."

He ignored the suspiciously amused sounds coming from the direction of the passenger seat.

xxxxx

The world spun.

Liquid fell with him, glistening drops catching the sunlight and refracting it in thousands of sparkling directions.

Wind tore the breath from his lungs.

This was what infinity was like.

This was what his last moments were like.

This was the end.

xxxxx

They made it almost on time. Kitt's body shining in the late afternoon sun, water beading on the paintwork, they pulled into the long driveway of the seaside mansion. Devon did pick the places.

People were milling about the entrance to the rather intimidating structure, formal wear sparkling.

"We need to park on the other side of this building."

"What gives you that idea, Kitt?"

"Devon. He is waving us in that direction."

Michael glanced to the right, and sure enough there stood his boss, obviously attempting to gain his attention, rather vehemently pointing in the direction of a side road around the mansion. Instead of immediately obeying, Michael pulled the Trans Am up next to the immaculately dressed Englishman.

"Yo, Devon."

He received a glare in return. "You're late. What ha-" Devon frowned and leaned further in the window. "Michael, are you quite alright?"

Michael grimaced. "I'm fine."

Devon glanced at Bonnie, who smiled innocently back at him, before turning to the dashboard of the car. "Kitt?"

"He's fine." Was that amusement in Kitt's voice?

Michael, still hiding behind his sunglasses, interrupted Devon before he could inquire further. "Kitt says you want us to park somewhere specific."

Devon blinked, obviously considering whether to interrogate the driver or not. "Yes, KITT is part of the display tonight."

"Aww, c'mon, Devon, you know how he hates that."

"I know how much you hate it." Devon was almost smiling at him.

"I think Michael can be excused in this case, Mr Miles." Devon's eyebrows shot up at Kitt's interjection. "He is not well."

"But you just said-"

"I was mistaken."

Devon stared at the dashboard before turning a shocked gaze at Michael who immediately feigned innocence. "What?"

"Bonnie, will you please tell me what is going on between these two."

Michael was rather miffed at the grin plastered all over her face. "Michael had a little accident this afternoon." She reached up and gently removed his glasses.

Devon's jaw dropped. "Oh, my."

Michael could almost count it down in his head. Three, two, one...

"Of all the irresponsible...Michael, do you know how important this event is!" He backed up and threw up his hands. "This is not the time for the ridiculous!"

"Hey! It was an accident."

His boss ignored him, and addressed Kitt. "Couldn't you have prevented this?"

"Hey! This is not his fault! I made a mistake, I have to live with it."

Devon glared at him. "You're not the only one."

"Mr Miles, Michael will be wearing his sunglasses and his...appearance...will be hardly noticeable. I just think that perhaps keeping him out of the spotlight tonight would be sensible." Pause. "For both his dignity... and mine."

Devon looked as if he was about to spit something out, but eventually swallowed and settled for a glare in Michael's direction. "Drive around the back of the building. You will see where you need to park."

With that he turned and stalked off.

Okay, mentally adding Devon to the list of people he had ticked off today, Michael drove off in the direction he had been told.

Bonnie wasn't laughing, but she still had a suspicious smile on her face. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Would I do that?"

He ignored her, and projected annoyance through the windshield.

xxxxx

It took timing.

It took precision.

It took everything he had.

Super Pursuit Mode had never been designed for this.

The wind rushed past his sensors as he shifted his centre of gravity, rotating the car's position in mid flight, lowering the T-top at an impossible speed, altering the focus of his mass, shutting SPM vents and fins erratically, levelling out his body parallel to the inevitable impact point.

The scream of firing turbo boosters.

He fell.

Fast.

But he got into position.

He had to.

xxxxx

"Oh, look dear, it's a Trans Am!"

The over dressed, obviously over fed, woman came hurrying over to him, champagne glass in one hand, some cream coated concoction in the other. It took two microseconds for Kitt to calculate the probability of a dollop of that cream smearing his paintwork. It only took one for it to actually happen.

"Oh, oops, silly me. Honey, hand me your handkerchief." The rather short man at her side complied as the woman downed the last of her delicacy, and Kitt had the pleasure of having said dollop of cream smeared even further, complete with greasy fingerprints.

Oil. He hadn't used it in a while, but he still had the capability to shoot it out of various outlets. Hmm, a couple of nice black smears might actually improve that outfit she was wearing.

"Knight Industries Two Thousand. Hmph. Looks like a Trans Am to me. Wonder what makes it so special?" She continued to rub his fender.

I could show you if you like. Anaharmonic synthesizer or a simple turbo boost into the table decorations? He amused himself with the resultant probability scenarios.

The champagne glass was deposited on his hood.

Kitt reached for his ignition.

"Ah, Mrs Humplestein, let me help you with that." Michael appeared from nowhere and rescued him.

"Oh, young man, that is so kind of you."

His driver grabbed the glass, a meaningful glance in Kitt's direction, his only communication. "Ma'am, have you seen the view from the balcony? I hear that it is spectacular at sunset." The woman reacted as predicted. Most women responded well to Michael's charm, and she was no exception. She fawned over him, and Kitt suddenly received the impression that even Michael might have dug himself in too deep.

Backing off slightly, Kitt's driver turned to her partner. "Sir, you must take her up there."

"Yes, Roger, we must." She suddenly peered up at Michael. "Young man, are you quite alright?"

Michael swallowed.

Kitt didn't hesitate. In fact, he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it earlier. He bounced the sound off the mansion itself, causing the voice to seem to be coming from the centre of the milling throng nearby. "Mrs Humplestein! Oh, Mrs Humplestein, you look fabulous this evening."

The woman's ears perked up in the direction of the crowd. "Oh, please excuse us. Society calls." Thankfully she wandered off in search of her admirer, her husband tagging along behind her.

Michael slumped wearily against Kitt's fender. "Thanks for that buddy."

"I think I owe you a thankyou, Michael. That woman..."

"I know, I know. Go to your happy place, Kitt."

"Hmph. How much longer?"

"Devon's presentation is just before sunset, you know that. We can't possibly leave before then."

"We could always hope for a distraction."

"I'm with you on that one." Michael stood up. "Pop the trunk, pal, I'll get this cleaned up for you."

With considerable relief, Kitt did so, and Michael fossicked around for the cleaning solution and cloth he habitually kept in there for situations such as these. Though usually it was something less exotic than cream.

Kitt appreciated his driver. Michael was a bit rough around the edges, but all in all he meant well, and when push came to shove, his heart was in the right place.

And nothing showed it more to Kitt than the care he was currently taking of him.

The soft cloth was wiped over his fender, the solution removing all trace of that vile woman's attentions.

Michael hated these events as much as Kitt did, though usually for different reasons. Kitt didn't mind being the centre of attention, but only if that attention was knowledgeable and informed. The blatant disregard for his intelligence, that gatherings such as these usually provided, became almost alarming to him at times, reminding him of the reality of being a lone AI in a world of ignorant humans.

It told him that his safety and respect lay only with those few he called family.

Thoughts like that wandered off into maudlin. He quickly shut down that train of thought and filed it away for later perusal.

"Thankyou, Michael."

"Anytime, buddy." His driver patted the paintwork. "Anytime."

xxxxx

It came suddenly.

A roar of compressed air, the familiar sing of turbines, and suddenly he was surrounded by upholstery.

Kitt?

Oh, god, no!

"Kitt! Noooooooooo!"

His voice was stolen from him by the wind.

xxxxx

Devon was walking up to the podium when Kitt contacted him urgently via the comlink. "Michael, there is an armed man approaching behind the hedge to the left of the crowd."

"What! Alert security!"

Michael had the advantage of his height as he peered out over the people surrounding him. The hedge was only a short one, bordering the property and meeting up with the concrete railing that lined the edge of the cliff that gave the grounds such a spectacular view of the ocean.

There was no sign of activity, but he made his way in that direction anyway, his eyes tracking the location of Devon, Bonnie, and other notables in the massing group of people.

The sun was heading towards a brilliant set in the background, the calm sea a beautiful backdrop to the ceremonies, the warm air fragrant with midsummer scents.

"Michael, he is readying his weapon. He's...Devon!" He didn't ask for clarification, he didn't need it. He hurried forward, dodging between guests.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to welcome you to the fifth Annual Foundation Charity Dinner to be held here on these grand grounds, sponsored by Mr and Mrs Hammond." Applause erupted all around at Devon's announcement as the honoured hosts rose and bowed politely.

"Kitt, I'm going to need a distraction."

Almost immediately he heard his partner's engine roar into life, much to the surprise of those people standing next to him.

"Other honoured guests we have here this evening include the Mayor John Coltrane and his wife, Elizabeth." Applause. "Senators Robbins and Sinclair, and Mrs Jane Clementine, Chairperson of the Foundation's Educational Services." More applause. "I would also like to take this opportunity to introduce to you all the flagship team of the Foundation for Law and Government. Michael Knight and his partner, the Knight Industries Two Thousand."

Michael made it to the hedge.

And suddenly every eye in the vicinity was on him.

He glanced up at Devon.

That moment of inattention was all it took.

"Too slow, Knight." The voice was a hiss. And familiar.

A man rose from behind the hedge, stepping over it, and Michael found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Who?

The face was also familiar, but elusive. "Step back. I have business with your boss."

There was no way he was going to let...

"No."

"Michael..." Devon's voice echoed in the sudden silence behind him.

"No."

Michael placed himself in the sniper's direct line of sight, in front of the more distant Devon. He could hear a woman sobbing.

The eyes peering above the barrel taunted his memory. Who? They flickered.

"Fine. If I can't go around you, I'll go through you." Michael moved. The gun went off. Someone screamed.

Shock. Surprise. It was a fundraiser, for crying out loud!

Pain.

His legs began to fold.

The gun aimed again. Where the hell was security?

Aimed at Devon.

No.

He flung himself forward, shoving at the man, hands clawing at his jacket. "No!" Too fast, too fast.

The rumble of a surging engine.

He desperately attempted to use his body mass to pull the man down as his strength left him, but the assassin was far from weak, a solid man, as equal to Michael in weight if not height.

How the hell had he gotten in here?

The man swore as he pushed Michael aside, bringing his weapon up again.

Michael dug his heels in and spun him around. Where was security!

They almost went down together, limbs tangled, but the other man caught himself, and flung Michael towards the railing.

Oh shit!

He sideswiped an elegantly arranged tower of champagne glasses. It rained sparkling wine.

The concrete balcony came up against the back of his legs, but he was too tall.

"Michael!"

The world disappeared beneath him.

xxxxx

Kitt angled himself and his body between Michael and the fast approaching waves, rocks, and certain death. He had both ejector seats fully extended, suspension primed, tyres rigged to deflate, anything to reduce the impact on his driver.

Michael was screaming his name.

Sandstone cliff flew past.

He fired all boosters.

The sea hissed.

And then the world came up and hit him.

xxxxx   
End Part 1


	2. Chapter 2

A Dose of Sun and Surf  
Part 2   
By Gumnut  
13 Jul/Dec 2004

The unbreakable broke.

The Trans Am ploughed into jagged rock; the front left wheel shearing off on impact, the left fender crumpling behind it. A ripple spread outwards across the mirror black hood, the moan of indestructible alloy a death cry halted only by the scream of shattering windshield.

The front end came to an inarguable stop, and the car's momentum propelled its backend skyward, forcing it nearly perpendicular. Its rear wheels spun uselessly, the explosive sound of tractionless boosters pounding the air as the tortured body teetered sideways before crashing to earth.

By some miracle it landed on its rear wheels and they held, but the excess energy rebounded through the mortally wounded Trans Am, and it shuddered, its crippled left side sliding towards the edge of the low escarpment where the waters of the Pacific eagerly awaited.

The screech of metal on rock.

The front fender dropped off the edge, a soft splash as metal met water, and the wreck shifted, following.

Suddenly a projectile shot out from the rear of the car and, with a clang, a grappling hook impaled itself into the cliffside, its rope stretching taut. The high tensile cable creaked, but it held fast and the mangled body teetered, trembling, before finally coming to a fragile rest

Salt water caressed the black paintwork.

And then there was only silence.

xxxxx

"I would also like to take this opportunity to introduce to you all the flagship team of the Foundation for Law and Government. Michael Knight and his partner, the Knight Industries Two Thousand."

Devon raised up his arm to gesture to his colleagues, only to find Kitt's engine rumbling ominously and Michael nowhere in sight.

What the-?

He scanned the crowd quickly and finally located the tall man over by the edge of the cliff. The eyes of the audience followed his, and Michael, sensing he was the centre of attention, looked up at the man on the podium.

Devon was briefly shocked by the worry on his friend's face before the sudden appearance of an armed man from behind his startled figure flung all other thoughts from his mind.

Oh, god.

The potential assailant said something gesturing in Devon's direction, and Michael's vehement "No" echoed across the silent grounds.

"Michael..."

His own voice sounded harsh in his ears.

"No." Michael forced himself in front of the waving weapon, blocking the gunman from Devon's line of sight.

God, no.

Devon hurriedly clambered down from the platform, making his way towards to two opponents. No.

And then the gun went off.

Devon was close enough to seen the shudder course through his friend. Red spattered all over the trampled grass, and Michael wavered.

God.

The weapon refocussed, its previous victim dismissed.

It aimed directly at Devon.

He froze, his breath caught in his throat.

And suddenly Michael was there again, the gun's aim distracted, the two men fighting on the grass. Kitt's engine roared and several people squawked as the Trans Am left its display podium, the AI rumbling across the lawn, heading towards his partner.

The assassin flung Michael away, and he stumbled into a tower of filled champagne glasses.

Kitt screamed out his driver's name, Devon moved to prevent the inevitable, failed, and the wounded driver plummeted over the concrete railing, disappearing to the long fall below.

Devon's heart missed a beat as an electronic scream echoed across the grounds, and his attention was stolen as Kitt, his shape altering as he moved, shot past terrified guests and launched himself after Michael.

Something in Devon froze and he found himself unable to breathe.

"Now, Mr Miles, I believe we have some business." The cold barrel of the gun appeared under his nose, a pair of equally cold eyes pinning him where he stood.

A heartrending crash of metal on rock echoed up from over the cliff.

And Devon's world collapsed around him.

xxxxx

Kitt felt like crying.

His body was still, frozen in its precarious position, but his soul was trembling.

He had caught Michael. His driver lay sprawled hard up against his dash, the angle of the car forcing his lax body from the soft security of the seats. One hand was thrust through the shattered windshield, red welts scarring pale skin where it had encountered the deadly shards of glass that was never meant to be broken. His head rested against the steering wheel, and one foot hung over the edge of the passenger side door.

Something wet and warm was leaking into the controls on the centre console.

Kitt felt like crying, but his purpose still remained.

And even though he had given everything, and it may not have been enough.

"Mi-cl."

His voice was full of static, slow, and an octave lower than its usual tenor. "Mi-c-l."

No response.

His vital signs monitor spat nonsense at him, and Kitt frantically hunted through the little sensory information he was still receiving seeking information on his driver's health. He had little. Michael's body still gave off heat, but was painfully still. Finally Kitt was able to focus a visual sensor on his chest desperate to detect movement.

A twitch.

A shallow in drawn breath.

A faint mist of heat as the breath was expelled through his driver's mouth.

Kitt whimpered.

xxxxx

The wine glass slipped from her fingers and fell with a soft sigh to the grass at her feet. Red wine splashed on her pantyhose.

Between the heads of the crowd surrounding her, Bonnie's eyes caught Devon's as Michael's murderer wrenched the older man's arm and turned him towards the crowd. Her heart beat in her throat, emotional agony nibbling at the edge of her vision.

Michael...

Devon groaned, the arm thrust up behind his back obviously painful, and something inside her snapped.

A breeze picked up from the cooling ocean as she took a step forward.

xxxxx

He woke to the sound of muffled crying.

Something drifted through his hair, teasing it, and it took a moment for him to realise it was simply the breeze.

Where was he? His body was sprawled on something soft and something hard both at once. He tried to move, and regretted it immediately.

"Mi-cl?"

The voice was familiar but mangled. Something was seriously wrong. "Ki-?" His own voice wasn't much better, the sharp tang of blood and he spat, a tooth falling to the cabin carpet.

He was inside Kitt. In the car.

And it was raining.

Raining?

A drop of water landed on his cheek and he flinched. It ran across his skin, its trail chilled by the breeze that continued to tangle his hair. Salt tingled on his tongue.

Seawater.

"Mi-cl, d-n't moove."

He would have liked to obey his partner, but something obviously wasn't right, and he hurt where he was. His right shoulder was tangled in the steering column, and the gearshift was millimetres away from impaling him through the stomach.

And his hand...shards of something tinkled through his fingers...something...oh, god.

With a moan, his forced himself onto an elbow. The resultant fireworks in his chest were even more than he expected.

"Ack!" He squeezed his eyes shut, his free hand reaching for the source of the pain and encountering the warm mush of clotting blood.

He'd been shot.

Paxton. The name came to him in a rush. Billy Paxton. Shit. Devon!

A voice intruded. Another name. His own.

"Ki-tt!" Something rose up from his chest and attempted to strangle him. His body responded, a hacking cough throwing him forward, yet more blood spattering on the beige upholstery. Bonnie was going to be so pissed.

"Mi-cl! Pleeeeeez k-p still."

Perhaps that wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Glass rained onto the cabin floor. God, Kitt. He let his head drop onto the upholstery, finding his face where his buttocks usually sat. The material was worn and a disconnected part of his brain was surprised. It was his place. He'd sat here for so long, it was where he belonged.

Worn.

And sprinkled with seawater.

"Kitt? Status." His own warm breath bounced off the seat and clouded in his face. He tried to ignore the flecks of red.

There was a whirr and a short spray of sparks spat from under the dash. Michael jumped, his heart landing somewhere between his stomach and his throat. "Kitt!"

Mistake.

His throat convulsed and he found himself struggling under the throes of another coughing fit, his body shaking him until spots danced across his vision. When it finally passed, he was limp, his face once again buried in the soft fabric that coated Kitt's interior.

Kitt had caught him.

"Kitt?" His voice was little more than a whispered exhalation.

There was no answer for a moment, and he despaired. God, Kitt.

"I'm...I'm s-rry, Mi-cl. D-ta unnnnnvailabl-" There was a lone spark and something sizzled.

Michael closed his eyes.

xxxxx

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? Oh, great executive director of the Foundation for Law and Government, since when does anything involve what I want?" Devon squirmed as his arm shot pain through his system, the man's hot breath on his neck. "You took all chance of me getting what I want the day you took my father away from me."

FLAG's CEO flinched, memory suddenly supplying the missing pieces.

William Paxton.

Son of Judge Paxton.

Lyndhurst Flats.

One trumped up misdemeanour that became life threatening.

A nick-of-time rescue by Michael and Kitt. It had been the first time he had realised the value of what Wilton Knight had created in that partnership. Nothing like seeing the black Trans Am charging to your rescue to alter your perceptions.  
He instinctively glanced at the edge of the cliff where the partners had fallen, his eyes skittering over the frightened faces of the people in front of him.

He closed his eyes.

"Don't you dare ignore me, Executive Director!" His arm was shoved higher and he felt something give, agony sparked. At the groan he could not suppress, his captor snarled in his ear. "Is that nice? Are you enjoying yourself?" Devon didn't answer. "No? Well, welcome to my life." The cold metal barrel of the gun bit into his throat.

"Who are you and what do you want?" The new voice startled both of them.

Devon looked up to find Bonnie standing in front of him. God, no. She stared at him, something in her eyes, red-rimmed though they were, spoke of anger. "No, Bon-"

"Who said you could speak!" William yelled into his ear, spittle landing on his cheek. The man was unstable, that much was clear.

Bonnie moved in closer. "I said 'who are you and what do you want?'" She was carrying a wine bottle in one hand.

"Who wants to know?"

"Someone with a vested interest in the man whose arm you are attempting to break." And those who had just been taken from them. The unspoken wafted through the silence.

Apart from the occasional whimper, the crowd behind her was silent. Staring.

Bonnie, please.

A sharp scream from beyond the cliff shattered the silence and his arm was wrenched beyond design. Something snapped and suddenly he was falling.

xxxxx

Water.

It had to be water.

His shell had been compromised and water was leeching into his systems. A not-so-pleasant way to be deactivated, but worth it nonetheless.

Michael was still alive and that was all that mattered.

And he had to find a way to keep him that way.

That was his purpose.

His only purpose.

His driver's eyes fluttered occasionally. He was still conscious, and Kitt kept talking, drawing his driver's attention as much as possible to keep him awake, while he accessed all his available systems, cataloguing what he could and could not do.

His communication equipment had survived the fall for the most part, and an urgent signal was sent to the coast guard and air rescue, but the majority of his scanning systems were down, the vulnerable front scanner corrupted by seawater.

"Devon?" It was more breath than voice, but fortunately Kitt's audio sensors hadn't died as yet.

"I'm sssssorry, Mi-c-l, I c-can't reead him." His voice box warbled, bouncing in and out of his normal range as his diagnostic systems struggled to feed him what little information they could garner.

"Damn."

There was a silence for a while, the only interruptions the irregular roar of the surf. Kitt had been aware of the waves and the danger they presented from the moment he had settled here. Fortunately there were rocks further out that broke up the breakers, giving them some small amount of protection, but it was still a serious concern. He still had access to the winch that held them fast to the cliffside, but probability calculations did not lean in their favour regarding the possibility of losing his precarious hold on the rock should he attempt to pull the Trans Am higher up onto the ledge. He wasn't willing to risk losing all for the chance of a small gain in purchase.

He had tried to raise the roof to at least protect Michael from the water that splashed erratically on him and the upholstery, but had no success. He was still trying to assess whether it was an electrical fault or a mechanical one.

"K-Kitt, why?" A simple question.

A simple answer.

"Nooo, choice." There was a spark in his diagnostic array and several sensors spat static at him. Hurriedly he disconnected the affected circuits, corralling the damage, and saving the survivors.

"But-" A shudder shook his driver and for a moment, he thought Michael had lost his battle to stay awake, but his eyelids continued to flutter, and then , "Thank-k you."

Kitt didn't have a heart, but what made him what he was clenched in pain. Michael. If you only knew.

All thought was interrupted as a particularly large wave crashed against the front fender of the Trans Am. Kitt didn't see it coming and flinched as his engine compartment filled with water. More circuits fell, his mad scramble to disconnect prone systems and protect himself almost failing.

Michael groaned, the strength to scream already taken from him, as salt water soaked him and the upholstery he was lying on, catching his injuries in all its acid-like glory.

Kitt grabbed again for the controls to raise the roof, but they still did not respond. The Knight Two Thousand, the most indestructible car on the planet, currently didn't even have the ability to protect his driver from the sun, much less the surf.

Kitt swore.

The water receded, but Michael had stopped moving.

"Mi-cl?"

The handful of sensors he had left, he trained on his driver. Please, Michael.

He painfully searched for signs of life, breath, movement, anything.

Anything.

"Mi-cl!"

Nothing.

"Mi-" His voice box sparked, the current caught, the circuit looping to burnout.

And the Trans Am screamed.

xxxxx   
End Part 2


	3. Chapter 3

A Dose of Sun and Surf   
Part 3   
By Gumnut  
1 Jan/ 12&13 Jun 2005 

Darkness.

Weightlessness.

No, not quite. On either count. The darkness was sprinkled with spots of light, and voices wafted on the wind.

Wind. Definitely wind. It was teasing his hair again.

And his body floated in it. A soft sway, and a heartbeat that was too fast to be his own.

Kitt?

A voice answered him, but it wasn't his partner.

Kitt!

He moved, attempting sit up, and his body complained. Sparks of pain danced behind his eyelids and for a moment he froze in horror as the memory of sparks arcing across the Trans Am dashboard forced him to realise that Kitt may never answer him again.

The voice that wasn't Kitt's became urgent and something pushed him down, restraining him. He couldn't move.

"Kitt!" Water speckled his face. "Kitt!"

The name was caught by the breeze, as his world swayed, the other heartbeat throbbing faster, catching up with his own.

And the wind blew him away.

xxxxx

She hit him.

It only took a moment of distraction on his part. A simple technique the man had used against them several times that day already.

Time to turn the tables.

The scream that crawled up the cliff and down her spine was as familiar to her as if it had been her own child. Because in a way he was, and he was in pain.

And it only fuelled her anger, her grief.

Her loss.

So she hit him.

One moment he was staring at her with over confident arrogance, the next, his eyes were drawn to the cliff edge, and she moved.

One hand came up, catching Devon's shoulder and shoving him aside, while the other, full of wine bottle, swung and impacted the side of the head of the man who would be his captor.

The man who had taken so much from her.

So much.

Devon fell with a yelp and her opponent wavered, the gun pointing anywhere but in a coherent direction. Blood ran down the side of his face, a dent in his cheekbone evidence of the bottle's impact. His eyes struggled to focus, catching hers. The barrel of the gun turned in her direction.

She didn't hesitate.

This time the bottle smashed, the crack of shattering glass masking that of shattering bone as it collided with his arm.

His scream was curiously satisfying.

She moved to hit him again.

"Bonnie!"

Devon.

And suddenly security was finally there. Men in grey uniforms swarmed over the scene and her opponent was swallowed by them.

Devon.

A small part of her brain shuddered in shock, but the rest of her knew it wasn't over yet. Her boss lay huddled on the grass, his pale face echoing the pain he was in.

The remains of the bottle fell from her hand.

xxxxx

MichaelMichaelMichaelMichael..."Michael, I think you should take the day off."

His driver stared at him for a moment. "You think I should take the day off?"

"Yes, I do." Pause. "What's the matter, Michael?"

"Well...ah...what about the Ferreni case?"

"It can wait."

Michael frowned. "You feeling all right, buddy?"

"Yes, Michael, why?"

"You seem...a little out of sorts."

"Just because I think you need a break does not mean there is something wrong with me, Michael."

"Okay." Then, "You've been speaking to Bonnie?"

"No, Michael, I have not."

"Okay."

Silence for a moment.

"Michael, how about a dose of sun and surf?" Sun and surf, sun and surf, sun and surfsunandsurfsunandsurfsurfuuuuuuuurf...

"What?"

Electronic sigh. "A trip to the beach, Michael."

He was sitting sideways in Kitt's driver's seat, his feet hanging out the door while he sorted through a pile of case files looking for what Kitt assumed was Ferreni's arrest report. The fact that he didn't respond immediately to his suggestion only confirmed his assessment of his driver's condition. That and the fact that Kitt had that arrest report in electronic format only anyway. A flick of a relay and he set his printer running. Seconds later the long searched for report fell to the floor.

"I believe what you are looking for is just left of the main console." Kitt sighed to himself as Michael turned and retrieved the required papers.

"Thanks, Kitt."

"Michael?"

"Huh?"

"You've been working around the clock for three days. Ferreni is in jail; Devon is wrapping up the case. You need rest."

"I'm fine, Kitt." Still absent.

Kitt chose to slowly close his driver's side door.

Michael jumped, automatically lifting his feet out of the way. Which in turn enabled Kitt to close the door even more. "Michael, get in the car."

"Kitt, what the hell are you doing?" He tried to push the door open a bit further with one foot.

"Kidnapping you."

"Kitt, stop fooling around."

"I'm not fooling around." He wiggled the door mock-threateningly. Actually this was quite funny. The look on Michael's face was comical.

"Kitt!" Kitt, can you hear me? Kitt!

He sighed, letting the door open again. "Michael, please."

"What!"

Different tactic. "I need a break, let's go for a drive. How about the beach?"

Another stare. "Kitt, are you sure you're all right?"

Aaaaaargh! "Actually, no, I think I need to get out of here. Can we go?"

Michael blinked a moment before turning himself around in the seat and pulling the door closed. He started the car. "So where did you want to go?"

Through the nearest wall. "How about the beach, Michael?" The beach. Michael!

"Sounds great, buddy." Michael yawned.

"Do you mind if I drive?"

"Go for it. I have these case files to go through anyway."

Kitt eyed the pile of files now on his passenger seat and briefly considered ejecting them out on to the street.

Only anti-littering laws stopped him.

Switching to auto cruise he targeted the nearest hopefully deserted beach and bee-lined for it. He even cranked up some rock'n'roll music in the hope of distracting his partner from that stack of paper. They should have the majority of the day to themselves. Nothing was scheduled until the Charity Dinner tonight and Kitt had every intention of fending off Devon should he attempt to interrupt this small chance for Michael to get some much needed rest. Rest. Reeesssssssssssssttt. Michael!

He briefly wondered if he could re-target his laser through his video feed system and torch those papers where they sat.

No such luck.

He stared up at his driver. It was nearly lunchtime. Perhaps he could sideswipe a fast food drive thru, and use Michael's digestive system to lull him into some relaxation.

That could be a plan.

xxxxx

The thrum of a chopper's blades was background to everything by the time Bonnie made it over to the cliff edge and, holding her breath, peered down. In the fading light she was just able to see the dark shape of the Trans Am teetering on the edge of a ledge at the bottom of the fall. A sudden blinding spotlight lit up the scene at the Lifeflight chopper pinpointed the persons needing rescue.

She had to get down there.

The party had become chaos. Security swarmed everywhere, police had arrived and with them the flashing lights of ambulances. Elegant clothes and hairstyles were in disarray and women were crying in shock.

Bonnie wasn't crying. Her throat was too tight with grief.

She had to get down there.

Devon had stubbornly stumbled to his feet, batting off medics, and was directing people towards the house, assisting the police in clearing a space for the chopper to land, his voice shaking only just slightly as he barked orders to the attending Foundation staff.

She had to get down there.

"Devon!" His head shot up, immediately spotting her in the dark. His arm was in a makeshift sling and his hair being tossed about by the downdraft of the landing helicopter. He hurried over.

She saw him swallow as he peered over the cliff straining to see in the dim light. "They'll do their best, Bonnie." His hand touching her arm.

She didn't look at him. "I know. I need to go down there, Devon." He didn't answer immediately and she looked at him. His face was a mask, hiding everything. She caught his eyes. "I need to go down there."

His fingers twitched where they made contact with the soft material of her dress. Then quietly, almost hoarse, "I will see what I can do." He turned and made his way towards the huddled group of would be rescuers.

She knew he'd throw his weight around, but even if she had to jump off this cliff herself, she would get down there. The two most important people in her life were teetering on the edge.

And she needed to be there to catch them.

xxxxx

Someone was holding his hand.

Soft skin wrapped around his own, a thumb? trailing across his knuckles, tracing circles, figure eights. He found it calming. The world was dark and confusing and he couldn't quite think straight.

It had stopped raining and the wind had left his hair alone for a while. But he was cold nonetheless. Cold and hurting.

There were noises. The sounds of footsteps, voices, words barked out in urgency. Other hands touched him and he flinched.

Something electronic started screaming.

Kitt?

His hand was let go.

"Kitt!"

Another electronic voice joined the first and suddenly the pain leapt up and swallowed him.

He fell.

And this time Kitt wasn't there to catch him.

xxxxx

The harness was tight and uncomfortable, but she didn't care.

The rescue team had not been happy in the slightest that they suddenly had to assist some lady scientist to the bottom of the cliff, but Devon had been adamant.

She didn't blame them. They didn't know that there were actually two lives hanging in the balance down here.

The moment her feet met rock, she was unstrapping herself and cursing her high heels. The team had already hurriedly set up lighting on the ledge, their first concern the limp form of Michael in the front seat of the Trans Am. The chopper hovered overhead, its spotlight targeting the entire scene as the medics attempted to reach him.

Kitt's grappling hook was still embedded in the cliffside, another member of the team securing additional lines of support to the Trans Am to prevent it from slipping further. The moment they had Michael out, they planned to drag the car backwards.

She had her own assessment to make before they did that. Kitt could be as fragile as any human being.

In frustration she yanked her shoes off and tossed them aside.

The ocean was unforgiving, the tide slowly coming in, each wave hitting closer and closer. As she watched, one wave dumped spray across the hood of the Trans Am. Something sparked in the dash, bright electrical light arcing across the black casing. A medic jumped and yelled.

Bonnie cried inside. Oh god, Kitt.

She hurried over, doing her best to keep out of the way of the medics.

And terrified what she would find.

The chopper's light was harsh and it reflected the colour red bright enough to scorch her retinas. Oh, Michael. They had managed to strap him into the Lifeflight stretcher with enough tubes and wires to start a distillery. All she could see was a tuft of his curly hair poking out amongst the wrappings.

But his blood was all over the car.

"Kitt?"

She didn't expect an answer. The dash was dark.

One of the men looked at her strangely, but she didn't care in the slightest. She reached inside the car, doing her best to ignore the red splattered everywhere amongst the sparkling of shattered glass, and toggled a switch, pressed a couple of buttons. "Kitt, can you hear me? Kitt!"

Nothing.

A wave sprayed her with seawater.

She yelled to one of the rescue team, the beat of the chopper drowning her voice out.

She didn't appreciate his answer.

"I don't care what you think. I need assistance in accessing the engine compartment, and I need it now!"

People always jump when they assume you're a mild mannered geeky type and suddenly you turn around and rip their heads off.

They continued to argue and time was getting short.

Kitt was drowning.

Bonnie was screaming. "I don't care about your priorities! This car contains an artificial lifeform as important as that man you just airlifted. Now you are not moving this vehicle until I have removed Kitt from the engine compartment!"

They obviously had no idea what she was talking about. Obviously thought she was half insane.

So she worked her own way around the car and attempted to wrench the hood from its housing. It didn't budge.

Damnit! She wanted to scream.

Water splashed on her face.

"God, please, listen to me!"

A hand wrapped around her shoulder and she was gently pushed aside. A bear of a man, dressed in the glow in the dark orange of the rescue team edged past her and with a grunt wrestled the warped hood up on its hinges. He held it there. "You might want to hurry, dear, the next wave will probably soak everything."

She would have smiled at him, but she was too tied in knots. She muttered a thankyou and reached over the engine compartment. She didn't need any tools; the CPU was designed to be removed in a hurry. Even Michael knew how to do it.

Michael.

She blinked back tears as she hurriedly unclipped connectors. "Kitt, if you can hear me, its Bonnie. I'm removing you from the car. E-Everything will be all right."

The sea sighed beneath the chassis and she couldn't help but see the black scorch marks of shorts where electronics had encountered seawater. She could only pray that Kitt hadn't drowned while she'd been arguing.

She flinched as a fingernail broke.

"Ma'am, you might want to hurry."

The ocean hissed at her and she saw it subsiding through the wheel arc. Her fingers flew over the connections.

"Uh, ma'am?"

Nearly there...

Last one. She reached for the CPU, her fingers wrapping around the MBS coated casing...

And she was grabbed from behind, yanked out of the path of a wave that swallowed the black Trans Am in a gush of hissing foam.

xxxxx

Michael yanked the car to a stop on the sand. "This satisfactory?"

"I would think so." Kitt let the grin into his voice. "Now eat your lunch."

Arched eyebrow. "Aye, aye, Captain."

"And watch for crumbs."

Michael grinned and Kitt watched as he relaxed back in the seat, grabbing his burger and fries. He stared out through the windshield at the waves as he ate.

Kitt had seen Michael watch the water for hours. He seemed to have a fascination with the ocean.

"Say, Kitt, how about we put the top down?

No, put the top up! Protect, must protect! Michael!

"The UV index today is extreme, Michael. I'm not sure that is a good idea."

"Aww, c'mon, Kitt. What's the surf without the sun?"

"A great deal healthier."

"Spoil sport." His driver thumbed the top release despite his warnings and the roof folded neatly back, letting the beach weather in. Michael blinked, putting on his sunglasses against the glare as the sun baked Kitt's upholstery.

"Risk taker."

"Hah! What's life without risk?"

"Safe."

"Life isn't safe, Kitt."

"It can be."

"No, it can't."

"Why not?"

"Because life is a game that everyone ultimately loses." Losinglosinglosinglosinglosing...

"That is a rather morbid way of looking at it, Michael."

"That's life, Kitt."

"I prefer not to think of it that way."

"Your choice."

There was silence for a moment, then Kitt asked, "Michael, what is wrong?"

"Wrong? There's nothing wrong."

"This case...something has been driving you...what is wrong?"

"I'm fine, Kitt."

"Michael, what have I told you about attempting to lie to me?"

Michael sighed. "Okay, okay, I surrender." He held up his hands. "Ferreni said something to me as I was bundling him up for the police. He claimed I was too late and that he had achieved his objectives. He rattled on about FLAG going down, the usual death threats and such, but this time...I don't know, Kitt, something doesn't feel right."

"And you've been searching the case files for clues as to what."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you ask me?"

Michael shrugged. "I did, sorta. You've been helping me with those name searches."

"Hammond and Paston. There are far too many matches for any conclusive clue as to such a person's involvement with Ferreni. I'm sorry, Michael."

Paxtonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.

"I know, buddy, it's just...I don't know...something is nagging me, as if I should know the answer."

"I'm sure you will find the answer, you always do."

An eyebrow arched at his voice modulator. "Really, buddy, I didn't know you held my skills is such esteem." Poorly hidden smirk.

Dryly. "I have to, Michael, you're the only partner I have."

"What? You want another one?"

"One crumb maker is enough, thank you very much. And you can pick that piece of lettuce off the floor too."

Michael found the offending piece of vegetable matter and reached between his legs to grab it. With a suspicious smirk on his face he then brought the limp green bit of leaf to his mouth.

"Michael, what on earth do you think you are doing? That is disgusting."

"Checking to see how alert you are." The lettuce ended up in the empty burger bag.

"Hmph."

The weather was beautiful. Kitt idly scanned his driver as the man stretched himself out across the two front seats, his head pillowed by one door, his feet by the other. Kitt was hoping he would fall asleep at some point, get some rest, relax, but Michael was eyeing the case files again. Annoying things that they were.

He watched as with a sigh his driver reached over and snagged the top folder. It was particularly thick, its contents including a book full of a list of contacts Ferreni had made. The foolish man was dumb enough to keep records. It had already made the case easier to solve.

"Are you quite comfortable?"

"Actually come to think of it, I am." Michael grinned at him.

"You are going to get burnt."

"You worry too much."

"It's my job."

"Yeah, well, you do it too well."

"Michael, one of these days you're going to take a fall that I won't be able to save you from. Then what am I going to do?"

Absently while reading. "Kitt, you always catch me. You always save my sorry butt."

"Somebody has to, you certainly don't."

Michael frowned. "Are you saying I don't do my job properly?"

"Read your book, Michael." And Kitt clammed up.

For all of five minutes.

"You're going to get burnt."

"Kitt, shut up." Kitt, please...c'mon, honey, you can do it...Kitt!

Hmmm, well he would just wait until Michael fell asleep and then he would raise the top again.

It took him only a few seconds of snoring to realise that raising the top was impossible. Just about as impossible as his driver.

Michael was going to pay for this one, he could see it coming.

Kitt sighed.

xxxxx

Damnit, Kitt!

Bonnie felt like crying. The CPU had been compromised. Not by seawater, but by electrical discharge. Water had shorted Kitt's extremities and the current had arced, looping back into his CPU, burning as it travelled.

She had called in the semi, and she now sat in her chair, desperately fighting with broken circuits. "Please, Kitt, please..."

Devon had gone to the hospital with Michael, more to look after the younger man than for treatment himself, despite what the medics said.

The Trans Am was still at the bottom of the cliff, secured to prevent it from being washed away, but recovery delayed until daylight returned. The thought of leaving Kitt down there...she thanked the fates she had been able to retrieve him when she had.

He wouldn't have survived.

She had bruises on her side from when she landed, hands full of CPU, the large man she now knew belonged to the name Jeff, managing to pull her from the path of a wave that could have easily have swept her off the rock. She had thanked him, but then hurried to be pulled up the cliff face once again to safety. Kitt needed her.

"Goddamnit, Kitt! Please..."

She had been rerouting circuits for hours, desperately attempting to repair the damage. Even parts of his main processor had been compromised, possibly fatally. She had hooked him up to input and output, including the mobile voice module, but he had yet to respond to any of her prompts. Kitt had fought madly against the fire that had invaded him. Every surge suppressor had been activated and she found signs of relays shut off, circuits cut, it was as if Kitt had fled...and she couldn't find where too...

Hold on...just a minute...

She studied the readings of the diagnostic computer. What the-? A good percentage of his RAM was looping through his long-term memory module. She interfaced with his memory, cross-linking with his refurbished main processor. The graph blipped. Once. Again.

"Kitt, please...c'mon, honey, you can do it...Kitt!"

And suddenly the processor indicators lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, god, Kitt, can you hear me?"

There were a few seconds of heart breaking silence. Then...

"Bonnie?"

She burst into tears.

xxxxx

Michael Knight was a stubborn bastard.

That was all Devon could think. He sat in intensive care staring at his pale form, limp on the bed, a forest of wires and tubes branching out in all directions. Only Michael Knight could manage to survive a bullet wound to the chest followed by a plummet off a cliff.

Of course, it helped to have Kitt as a partner.

Devon sighed. Bonnie had rung earlier with the great news that Kitt had 'woken up'. Now they only had to wait on Michael.

Paxton. The bloody delinquent. He would see that the courts roasted him alive.

Only one question remained. How the hell had he managed to side step security so easily? He had made sure of the security arrangements himself. Checking and double checking to make sure their guests would be safe. He had even invited Michael and Kitt for that reason. He knew Kitt would pick up any problems long before the human security team.

And he had.

A lot of good it had done.

Devon stared at Michael's unconscious face. The angry red of sunburn sketching out two rings of paler skin where Michael had worn his sunglasses. In better circumstances it might had made him smile. It was so typical of the younger man, a delinquent in his own right. But now all that sunburn would do is cause more pain. Cream had been smeared over his burnt skin, particularly where the oxygen mask might abrade.

He looked so frail in the hospital gown.

Devon dropped his head into his hand.

xxxxx

"How does that feel, Kitt?"

"It feels embarrassing."

"I'm afraid it's the best we can do until the car is repaired."

"Michael is going to laugh at me again."

She smiled. "Let's hope so."

She lifted the portable unit she had housed Kitt in and carried him to her car. There was only one place Kitt wanted to be right now.

"Bonnie?"

"Yes, Kitt?"

"Did you know that the hosts of the party, Mr and Mrs Hammond, were related to Judge Paxton?"

She nearly dropped him. Shit.

"No, Kitt, I didn't. How did you find that out?"

"Michael had me doing a search on the Ferreni case for the names Hammond and Paston. I guess he misheard the last name. A corrected search brought up the relationship."

How the hell had they missed such an obvious security breach.

"Good work, Kitt. I'm sure Devon will be very interested in that little bit of information."

"After he has laughed at me too."

She had to smile.

xxxxx

"Michael, it is time you woke up."

Huh, Kitt? The sea breeze brushed across his face, dancing in his hair.

"Michael, if you don't wake up soon you'll be the colour of beetroot."

"Kitt?"

"Yes, Michael, wakey-wakey." The cry of a distant seagull.

"Huh?" He opened his eyes to blue sky...no, blue curtains. What?

"Michael?" Kitt's voice was gentle. And close.

"Kitt?" He attempted to raise his arm, looking for the source of his partner's voice. He found tubes and sticking tape, but no comlink. "Kitt?"

"I'm right here, Michael."

He turned his head. And sitting beside the bed on some weird looking contraption was a familiar looking black box. "Kitt?"

"You're not allowed to laugh this time. You have chest injuries." The flash of red light as his partner spoke was both welcome and chilling. Welcome because he was happy to see his partner, chilling because he was so out of place.

"Kitt, why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you." Simple answer.

"No-" His voice was hoarse and dry. "Where's the car?" Swallow and a sudden realisation as memory settled into place. Oh god. "Kitt, are you okay?" He struggled to sit up.

"For goodness sake, Michael I am fine. Lie down before I call a nurse and have you strapped down."

Michael's eyes widened, suddenly aware that Kitt was fully capable of seeing the threat through. He settled back on the bed. Not that he could have gotten very far. Apart from feeling weak as a newborn kitten, he had so many tubes and wires attached to him, he'd probably have to take half the wall with him to get out.

"Where are Bonnie and Devon?"

"Devon, I believe is chasing down Mr and Mrs Hammond, the people who hosted the party. It seems they arranged it for a reason other than for charity."

Michael frowned. "Hammond? Wasn't that-?"

"Yes, my search was successful."

The names clicked over in his head. Not Paston, Paxton. Damn, it was almost obvious. So much relying on one consonant. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before Kitt captured his attention again.

"And Bonnie is sleeping on the other side of your bed."

A brief frown and Michael turned his head. Sure enough, Bonnie was curled up in a chair, sleeping quietly.

He smiled slightly at the sight of her. He turned back to Kitt. "You sure you're okay, buddy?" A scream echoed in his mind, sparks flying, seawater rushing in.

"I am well, Michael, if a little short on mobility." A pause. "You need to rest."

"I do?" But even as he said it, he felt himself drifting. "Take me to the beach then. A little dose...of sun and surf." He smiled sleepily.

"I think you've had enough of both for the time being."

He continued to smile, eyelids drooping. "I know, but you still caught me. Told you I was right."

"You are always right, Michael, except when you are wrong."

But Michael didn't hear him, his mind drifting off to the sound of his partner's voice.

Kitt had caught him.

The sea breeze played with his hair as he slouched in the driver's seat, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, his head lolling between the headrest and the door. The sun was warm, the surf crashing in the distance.

And he was safe.

xxxxxxxxxx   
FIN.


End file.
